“Seriously, what would you do? There is no equivalent in the real world. You can’t run around and dig holes and shoot things!” she teased.

Husaybah

Gannon spent about four months back at Twentynine Palms before returning to Iraq as commander of L Company, 3rd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment.

The insurgency was erupting in Anbar province. During one conversation, the phone went dead. “I’m sorry,” Gannon later told his wife. “A grenade just went off.”

She didn’t sleep much that tour, sick as she was with worry. Then two Marines in uniform appeared on her doorstep. Sally, a family readiness volunteer who had attended a casualty assistance seminar, knew that meant her husband was dead.

Gannon was posthumously promoted and awarded a Silver Star for valor in combat. In the barren desert bordering Syria, the Marines had been attacked by insurgents and jihadist fighters.

During a withering battle that lasted most of a day and night, Gannon led his company to a besieged sniper position where they were battered by enemy fire. The Marines assaulted toward the enemy. A section leader was mortally wounded. Gannon, a wiry and much-admired commander known for being “tough as a 2-dollar steak,” pressed ahead to help the fallen Marine. After an exchange of fire and grenades with nine mujahedeen, Gannon was killed, his medal citation says.

Three lance corporals from his battalion also died that day.

Grieving

Back in San Diego, his family mourned him, each one in his own way.

Gannon’s father was bereft. But as a devout Catholic, he looked forward to seeing his son again after the resurrection.

The affection and respect fellow servicemen expressed for his son was also a comfort, such as the letter then-Navy Lt. Cmdr. Dave Richardson wrote on Memorial Day 2005. The two served together at the Naval Academy instructing midshipmen. Rick was a thoughtful listener and deep thinker who “struck a balance between being such a professional Marine, and such a great father and husband,” Richardson wrote.

A leadership award was named in his honor. His “example of selflessness in the toughest of combat situations lives on for the midshipmen of the future,” Richardson said. “He will forever be a part of the United States Naval Academy.”

Gannon’s mother was inconsolable for a long time. Her husband wanted her to snap out of it, but Tess’ grieving set its own course. “She had always looked out for all of my needs and all of a sudden she was the one who had needs,” he said. “I learned a lot about patience.”

Eventually Tess learned to cope by running marathons like her son. “Pain is weakness leaving the body,” she liked to say.

Maria was too young to understand. “My daddy is in heaven,” she would announce to startled strangers. Later, she liked to flip through the scrapbook of her father’s photos and awards Sally made each child.

She doesn’t remember much about him, but she heard he would prop her on his lap each night to share a Popsicle.